Time machines are hard work, you guys. The chrono-matrix is too damn delicate. I just can’t get it to balance.

Crap-packets! *kicks things*

Why do I need a time machine? Why, to find the time to write, of course! Time is the one resource I cherish above all others, and, of course, it is a resource I cannot renew. Unless I get this piston-licking time machine to stop breaking down. Man, this is what I get for buying generic parts. When you buy a brand name, you buy a reputation for excellence.

Maybe I need to look into wormholes. But what do worms know about time travel? They haven’t shared their secrets with me yet. Bastards. (Photo credit: Arthur Chapman)

Since I rekindled my creative interests, almost every hard-won moment has gone towards writing. However, it is still not enough. I need more, more, more. So, in between my attempts to transcend linear time, I’ve analyzed the opportunities in my routine to find where I might wring out more time for my writing, like a sweet juice made from the rarest deep-sea fish. Mmm, time is salty and bioluminescent.

Here’s the list, with pros and cons.

Not grooming

PRO: Palpable aura will keep people away, limiting distractions.

CON: Beard may achieve sentience, given enough time and exposure to dangerous levels of funk. Could become adversarial.

And then THIS happens. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Blending all meals and drinking them as nutritious shakes

PRO: Don’t have to wait until the end for dessert.

CON: The blender will drown out the screams that usually go with my meal preparation. Oh, the screams.

Note to self: do bones blend? (Photo credit: Travis S.)

Not changing clothes

PRO: The crust that forms will eventually become hard enough to serve as armor, defending me against assassination attempts by rival writers.

CON: Shirt designs will fade with time. How will people know about my fandom of Go-Bots if it’s not right there on my chest?

Eschewing clothing entirely

PRO: Gives the whole world what it’s been asking for all these years.

CON: The map tattoo on my *REDACTED* would be visible to all, and the treasure it leads to would be in danger.

The real treasure, of course, is my glorious nudity. Not pictured (though it does gleam just like that). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)